


Whose secret is it anyway?

by Eledhwen



Series: Whose secret is it anyway? [1]
Category: Daredevil (TV)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Identity Reveal, Marci is awesome, Marriage Proposal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-12
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-10-09 00:27:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,517
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17396654
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Eledhwen/pseuds/Eledhwen
Summary: Post Season 3. If you're taking on Foggy Nelson, you get to take on Matt Murdock too.Marci had never really liked Matt Murdock, although equally it was fair to say that she had never really got to know him. He had been there, at the periphery of her law school experience, usually taking top spot in a class despite her best efforts or those of his best friend, roommate and fellow nerd, Foggy Nelson.





	Whose secret is it anyway?

**Author's Note:**

> A bit of fluff, written in the middle of working on a longer, less fluffy piece.

Foggy had made very sure that the second time he asked Marci to marry him, it was done in the right way. Not after a mind-blowingly amazing fuck on the couch in the wake of not dying; no, this time he had done it properly. They’d gone to Coney Island and been on all the rides, and her cheeks had been pink with the wind, and then they’d got nachos and eaten them on the beach and he’d waited until sunset and got down on one knee.

This time, Marci said yes. Foggy laughed and cried, and put his grandma’s ring on Marci’s finger. It hadn’t quite fit, but she hung it on her necklace chain and they agreed to get it fitted later.

They rode home holding hands, and Foggy felt slightly giddy, slightly petrified and slightly astonished that Marci Stahl, of all people, would marry him, Franklin Nelson.

He checked with her in the morning that she still wanted to go ahead, and was astonished that she did.

Foggy floated into their new office that day, euphoric enough with life that Karen picked up on it immediately.

“You look happy,” she said, turning from the coffee machine.

“Matt in?” Foggy asked, grinning inanely back at Karen.

“Not yet.” Karen frowned. “In fact, he hasn’t called or anything …”

The door opened, and Matt came in. “Sorry I’m late,” he said.

“It’s okay,” Foggy said, “Karen had only just started to worry.”

Matt ducked into his office to put his bag and cane in the corner. “You sound happy,” he said, echoing Karen unconsciously.

“I am happy!” Foggy said, and Karen put her hand to her mouth.

“Oh, Foggy …” she said.

“Marci said yes,” Foggy confirmed, feeling the joy bubble up inside him again. “Marci Stahl actually said yes.”

Matt’s face split in one of his rare, full-throttle smiles and Karen squeaked and rushed to envelope Foggy in a hug. “I knew it!” she said, into his shoulder. “Was it romantic? Did you cry?”

“Yes, and yes,” Foggy admitted. “Matt, buddy, I want you to be my best man.”

Karen disentangled herself from the hug to let Matt absorb the request, and then nod. “I’d be honoured, Foggy. But what about Theo?”

Waving his hand, Foggy dismissed Theo. “He’s my baby brother. We’ll give him a role – I dunno, master of ceremonies or something. But you, Mr Murdock, you are my best man. In every sense.”

He waited, and Matt finally nodded and accepted Foggy’s embrace.

“There’s just one more thing …” Foggy said.

* * *

Marci had never really _liked_ Matt Murdock, although equally it was fair to say that she had never really got to know him. He had been there, at the periphery of her law school experience, usually taking top spot in a class despite her best efforts or those of his best friend, roommate and fellow nerd, Foggy Nelson.

After she’d started dating Foggy they’d hung out a bit more, and she’d appreciated Murdock’s dry humour and the fact he and Foggy looked out for each other. But she’d always had the feeling that Murdock had not really liked the fact she and Foggy were a thing, and that when they broke up, Murdock was definitely going to take Foggy’s side.

Since she and Foggy had got back together, Marci had come to realise that Matt Murdock was not going to go away – even when he had, for all intents and purposes, actually vanished off the face of the earth. In those long months after the earthquake she had patiently listened to Foggy berate his absent friend and then cry over him: rinse and repeat. She was somehow not surprised when Murdock reappeared on the scene and promptly continued causing heartbreak. Nor was she surprised when Foggy gave up his job at Hogarth, Chao & Benowitz to go back into partnership with his best friend.

So Marci was resigned that when she said “yes” to marrying Foggy, she was also saying “yes” to accepting Matt Murdock in her life. Quite how that translated to accepting an invitation to a celebration dinner at his apartment, she was not sure, but here she was with Foggy, trekking up a flight of dingy stairs.

“There’s really no elevator?” she asked, on the third flight. Foggy laughed – he had been irrepressible since the date at Coney Island two weeks before.

“Really no elevator.”

Marci tried to imagine life without an elevator, and failed.

Matt was already waiting at the door of his apartment when they reached the top, red glasses on as usual.

“Hey, buddy,” Foggy said, and handed over the bottle of wine Marci had carefully chosen.

“Hi, Matt,” Marci said.

“Come in,” Matt returned, standing aside to let them both in.

Truthfully, Marci was intrigued to see what sort of place Murdock lived in. It turned out to be surprisingly large, and airy, with a high roof and big windows. No curtains; well, of course. The lights were dim but someone had lit candles, the flickering light contrasting with the neon shades coming from what seemed to be an enormous billboard right outside the windows.

“You’ve spotted my rent reduction tool,” Matt said, from behind her. “Or, how a cheap defence attorney can live in a place like this.”

Marci, despite herself, laughed. “Got me in one, Murdock. It’s not bad.”

“I’m told it’s a bit on the spartan side,” Matt said, offering Marci a glass of wine, “but, well …”

“The art’s for the benefit of visitors, like us,” said the blonde girl in the kitchen area. “Hey, Marci.”

“Nice to see you again,” Marci said, having met Karen Page once or twice at the Nelsons’. “Are you on cooking duty?”

“Just pasta and meatballs,” Karen acknowledged, “and the meatballs are courtesy of Theo, so really it’s just putting it all together. But hey, congratulations! We’re so thrilled for you both.”

Matt nodded. “Although I’m kind of wishing I hadn’t decided against putting a bet on you two in the law school dating pool.”

“Matthew Murdock!” exclaimed Foggy. “Such confidence in your roommate.”

“Most of us had a bet on the two of you getting together,” Marci said. “Not in a professional capacity.”

Foggy looked at Matt; Matt tilted his head towards Foggy, and both burst into genuine laughter.

“Did you see how many hot chicks this guy dated in college?” Foggy demanded.

“Did you see how much time you two spent together?” Marci retorted. “Anyway, I didn’t bet. I knew I’d have lost.” She smiled at Foggy. “There are other ways to win.”

They sat around Matt’s dining table and ate Nelsons’ meatballs with pasta, drinking plenty of red wine, and talking about the progress of Foggy and Matt’s firm, about Karen’s developing investigations business, about Marci’s own work, about their wedding plans – although Marci had to admit that these were not far advanced yet.

Dessert was chocolate cake and espresso, which Matt carefully brewed himself, before producing a bottle of good Scotch whisky from a cupboard. He had been growing quieter as the evening went on, and Marci wondered what was up.

Foggy poured them all a glass of whisky and Matt raised his in a toast. “To the happy couple,” he said, and Karen echoed the words. The spirit was warm in Marci’s throat.

“Thanks, Matt,” she said, feeling more kindly inclined towards him than she had for a while.

Foggy prodded his friend’s arm. “Right, Matt, you’re up.” Matt sighed, deeply, his expression switching from happy to cautious in a flicker. “We talked about this,” Foggy pursued. “You do not get to back out, or I will ask Theo to be my best man instead.”

Matt downed his whisky and poured himself another glass.

“Foggy has asked me to tell you something,” he said, directing his words in Marci’s direction, although his red-shaded eyes were fixed somewhere over her shoulder. “He said he doesn’t want to keep secrets from you.”

Marci reached out and took Foggy’s hand. “So just tell me yourself, Foggy Bear,” she said.

“It’s not my secret to tell,” Foggy said, and he too had turned from joyous to serious. “It’s Matt’s.”

“Are you sick?” Marci asked, because that was the only possible secret she could think of, off the top of her head.

“Only in the head,” said Foggy, sotto voce. Matt’s lips quirked.

“No, Marci, I’m not sick,” he said. “I’m …” his fingers worked, and then he said, “I’m Daredevil.”

Marci stared at him, and then at Foggy, and then at Karen, and then stared at Matt again, and tried to put together the videos she’d watched of a lithe, muscular man in black brutally taking down criminals with her fiancé’s slightly awkward, _blind_ best friend.

“Foggy’s known for a while,” Matt said, into her silence. “Karen’s known for a bit less time. There aren’t many others who do.”

Marci reached for her whisky and finished the glass. “More please,” she said, holding it out, and watched as Matt picked up the bottle and poured without hesitation and without spilling a drop.

“The next thing you’re going to ask is, ‘so are you really blind?’” Matt said, and Marci choked on her drink.

“We both did,” Karen said, as Foggy patted Marci on the back.

Marci thought back to law school, and Murdock using braille books and a braille reader and speech recognition tools, which had been pretty clunky and awkward.

“No, I don’t think I am,” she said. “I mean, yeah, I was, but why would you go to that much trouble?” She drank more whisky. “Really Daredevil?” she asked, because although Matt seemed deadly serious, she still couldn’t quite believe it.

“And this, ladies and gentlemen of the jury, is why we do this at Matt’s place,” said Foggy, as Matt pushed back his chair and went to unlock a cupboard on the other side of the room. He was soon back, holding out what Marci recognised as the black mask which the Devil of Hell’s Kitchen had recently re-adopted.

“To be fair, anyone could have a black mask in their house,” Marci argued, because she was a lawyer, dammit, and this was not proof enough. “What about the whole costume thing?”

Karen and Foggy looked at each other, and both at Matt, who seemed to sense their gazes and shrugged. “Don’t have it any more. It got copied, and then it didn’t seem right to wear it.”

Foggy stood up suddenly. “Okay, we need a demonstration. Buddy?”

“Foggy, really?” Matt’s voice and expression were doubtful, but Marci found she did not care much.

“I’m not convinced,” she said, honestly. “I believe you’re blind, so I can’t believe you’re Daredevil. I’ve seen the footage.”

Matt took off his glasses, and put them on the table. “All right.” He went back to the cupboard, and emerged a moment later holding two batons which Marci thought looked vaguely familiar from the Daredevil clips. “Foggy, there’s some vegetable knives in the drawer by the sink.”

Now it was Karen’s turn to look worried. “Matt, are you sure?”

“The only thing I’m sure about is that Foggy’s aim isn’t good enough to hit me,” Matt said, twirling the batons in what Marci had to admit was an undeniably impressive way. “Marci, absent any other compelling evidence, this is all I have, if we’re to convince you that Foggy isn’t playing one of his pranks on you right now.”

He took up a stance by the sliding door on the opposite side of the room, head slightly to one side, and it was not the stance of a defence lawyer. By Marci’s side, Foggy picked up one of the three vegetable knives he had unearthed from the drawer, took it by the handle, murmured, “here goes nothing,” and threw it across the room.

Marci watched with a vague sense of horror as the knife curved its way straight towards Matt – who sidestepped and with a neat flick of his wrist, batted it out of the air. He grinned, and that too was not the grin of the Matt Murdock she knew.

“Another,” he said, and Foggy threw the second knife. Just before it looked like it would embed itself in the wall, Matt dropped his baton and picked the knife out of the air.

Foggy threw the third knife before his friend had had a chance to ready himself, and Marci watched Foggy’s dorky college roommate _flip_ himself over the weapon as it thudded into the wall and stuck, quivering slightly. Matt landed neatly on his feet and, to Karen and Foggy’s round of applause, added a little bow, before straightening up, patting his hair down and retrieving the knives.

“Witness for the defence rests, your honour,” he said, with that smile that Marci was not used to.

“Holy shit, you’re Daredevil,” Marci said, and finished her whisky.

They retired to the sofas, by common consent, Matt putting his glasses back on and retreating to the Murdock Marci knew and, she admitted, did not actively dislike.

“Does this put Foggy in danger?” she asked. “Or me?”

“He’s promised to try to keep our cases separate from Daredevilling,” Foggy put in.

“Historically, he’s been pretty bad at that,” Karen added, “but so far, since Fisk, it’s been better.”

Marci looked at Matt, because she felt that he could probably tell she was giving him a hard glare, and waited.

“I would never actively put Foggy, or anyone he cares about, in danger,” Matt said, and Marci felt that was a fair answer.

* * *

Marci was quiet in the cab on the way home, and Foggy worried that he’d thrown too much at her. And then he started worrying about Matt, who despite having drunk a couple of glasses of wine and another couple of whisky was clearly going to head out that night.

She did not say anything until they had closed the apartment door behind themselves, when she kicked off her shoes and sank into the sofa.

“Are you mad?” Foggy asked, with trepidation.

Marci shook her head, and held out a hand, and he went to join her. She laid her head on his chest. “Not mad. Just … it’s a lot to process, you know?”

“Oh I know,” Foggy agreed heartily. “I will never stop processing.” He wound a lock of her silky hair around his finger.

“I mean,” said Marci, idly, “there have been quite a few conversations in the office about Daredevil, you know. That outfit does a _lot_ for a guy.”

Foggy clapped his free hand over his ears. “I do not need to hear that. You’re supposed to be lusting after me, not my best friend.”

Marci turned her face up to his, and kissed him, slow and sweet. “I am lusting after you. Whose lap am I currently lying in?”

Foggy returned the kiss, with interest. “So, you can deal?” he said, hopefully.

Marci sat up, and swung herself so she was sitting astride his lap. “I can deal. Now shut up about Matt Murdock and focus on me, Foggy Bear.”

“Focusing,” said Foggy, weakly, and did.


End file.
